Tuesday, December 22, 2009
In one end....
For such a little person, Miss G surely takes up a lot of time ! Shes a pint sized processing plant - poke the feeding apparatus in one end, and you mind out the equal and opposite reaction out the other end. She has great comic timing - the boys are going to really appreciate a sister who provides ample bottom noises to keep life just so darned hilarious. On three occasion she has managed to deliver her 'punchline' just as she was sitting bare bottom on my knee. Its amazing how I've only known her for 12 days and am totally unfazed by her pooing on me. Cant say that about many people!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
I hope you didnt get the wrong idea....
You know, just thinking about my last post I feel a bit embarrassed. Perhaps I was a bit gushy and oversimplified/exaggerated just how good things are going. I mean, if I had read that piece when my first baby was 10 days old I would have thought - what a show off, she's not telling how it really is.
So, let me clarify. Yes I am exhausted. One of my nipples has cracked and bleeds every time she feeds. I spent yesterday in bed, fretting I had a breast infection. I am checking my babies rash every few minutes for signs of meningitis. My body is lumpy and achy. I feel like I've been in a dehydrator for 24 hours. This is really incredibly hard work.
But there are things I know now that I didn't know with number 1. These discomforts pass, the nipple will slowly heal, the exhaustion will slowly fade, I will sleep through the night again.
And what I really wanted to celebrate with my earlier blog was that I can just go with all those things, knowing it will be alright, and appreciate small wonders - some quiet time while my boys are happy and content stretching their little independence wings, a great support network of family and friends, a place to relax and just be.
I know we are incredible lucky to have baby that is chilled and sleepy. But I dont actually buy into that story we hear that babies are relaxed because parents are relaxed. I think every baby has a personality, is it's own wee individual in its own right from day 1, and like bigger versions, the smaller versions have quirks and qualities. Some cry, some don't. Some scream, some have terrible tummy pains, some sleep and some don't. Its the luck of the draw, and whatever you draw, its good to remember that it will pass, and change, all too quickly.
Quietly does it...
Its so quiet at my house this morning. The only sound I hear is the overloaded washing machine straining to spin out its belly full of pink clothes. I remembered this morning - when I undressed Miss G to find her chest and body bright red with heat/something rash - that my babies skin does not like environmentally friendly washing powder. Same with the boys - and my midwife confirmed that Eco Store and most green powders are too harsh for their wee skin. So lovely hubby has popped to get a box of Lux flakes and I will rewash all the pink and yellow and baby wrapping things I can find today. In the spirit of carbon trading schemes, I must remember to make amends to nature by planting a tree, or be extra vigilant recycling my milk bottles.
May as well rewash everything in the house, cause really I have not much (besides breast feeding and gazing adoringly at my daughter) else to do. Its quiet because my big boys are up at the family farm, bonding with their grandparents, climbing trees, and riding on motorbikes. They are far to happy and busy to even talk to us on the phone. I am being totally nurtured by the lovely mothers and fathers from Days Bay Play Centre, who have organised a meal roster for 2 weeks! Every afternoon someone rolls up to deliver a gorgeous dinner, and have a chat and a goo over the baby. Last night we had canneloni, fresh bread rolls and salad, followed by fruit sponge and whipped cream. I had more fruit sponge and whipped cream at 3am following a feed, and polished the rest off for breakfast! All justified under the 'Make high quality milk for baby' banner. Its all good training for Christmas feasting, too. What a great idea for any group of people to provide for its new mums, better than any team bonding exercise invented.
My niece has been here all week, running around fetching cups of tea, glasses of water, hanging washing, and practising for our christmas ukelele concert. Her Mum folded up Mt Washing Pile and vacuumed the house before she left yesterday. Anything else I am simply choosing not to do.
I know this peacefulness will pass. Life will get frenetic again, but for now time passes quietly. I sit on the couch breastfeeding, or lie in bed breastfeeding, and occasionally glance up from examining my child's perfect feet/hands/chin rolls/sternum to look out the window at the wind ruffled pale green sea.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
One day at a time
Day of Birth - I lie on the couch, and introduce our beautiful girl to her grandparents, and brothers. We all have a shot of the 90- something year old whisky that my husbands grandfather was given when my father-in-law was born. I should rest but I can't sleep anyway. She latches on and begins transforming my nipples into leather.
Day one - I am in total euphoria. Everytime I look at the result of my nine months work I am overwhelmed. I bounce around the house, shower, get dressed. I feel minimal pain. She is hungry and there is not enough to satisfy her.
Day Two - Still riding the adrenalin high. I manage 2 or 3 bursts of sleep during the night. I forget to take my pain relief and things get a bit sore. I can't stop telling the story over and over again, reliving the highs (I've already forgotten the long hard bits). We take our carload of kids (backseat buldging) out to our extended family christmas lunch and she is the star of the day. Tiring but lovely day, I happily accept the 3 servings of Pavlova and fruit salad that different lovely people keep bringing me! That night our wee girl sleeps a five and a half hour stretch.
Day Three - My parents arrive with my niece, our nanny for the week. They are all suitably impressed. I hit the nipple cream, infact am using so many different creams for different bits that I'm concerned I'll put the wrong one on the wrong place. Still forgetting panadol. Ouch. Can't sit for too long. I feel like I've completed the childbirth equivalent of a marathon.
Day Four - Last night I ate something too strong or rich, or drink too much bubbly, and she had a bad tummy ache. Finally she settled at 3am, awake again at 5.30am. The exhaustion is setting in, but I am going with it. We have lovely visitors. The adrenalin is slipping, but watching her Dad looking at her, with a look of tender adoration that is just for her, that I havent seen before, makes me feel very very content.
Day one - I am in total euphoria. Everytime I look at the result of my nine months work I am overwhelmed. I bounce around the house, shower, get dressed. I feel minimal pain. She is hungry and there is not enough to satisfy her.
Day Two - Still riding the adrenalin high. I manage 2 or 3 bursts of sleep during the night. I forget to take my pain relief and things get a bit sore. I can't stop telling the story over and over again, reliving the highs (I've already forgotten the long hard bits). We take our carload of kids (backseat buldging) out to our extended family christmas lunch and she is the star of the day. Tiring but lovely day, I happily accept the 3 servings of Pavlova and fruit salad that different lovely people keep bringing me! That night our wee girl sleeps a five and a half hour stretch.
Day Three - My parents arrive with my niece, our nanny for the week. They are all suitably impressed. I hit the nipple cream, infact am using so many different creams for different bits that I'm concerned I'll put the wrong one on the wrong place. Still forgetting panadol. Ouch. Can't sit for too long. I feel like I've completed the childbirth equivalent of a marathon.
Day Four - Last night I ate something too strong or rich, or drink too much bubbly, and she had a bad tummy ache. Finally she settled at 3am, awake again at 5.30am. The exhaustion is setting in, but I am going with it. We have lovely visitors. The adrenalin is slipping, but watching her Dad looking at her, with a look of tender adoration that is just for her, that I havent seen before, makes me feel very very content.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Its a...Its a...Its a....!
GIRL!
Born Friday morning, at 9.37am, after a long night of sporadic stop-start contractions, no sleep, a night and dawn of walking walking walking around the house, looking out at the dim misty morning, waving my bootie around, breathing my way through each contraction, as excited Dad and the midwives drink tea and eat toast.
I will refrain from giving you every juicy detail, needless to say, it was wonderful experience, and surprisingly different to the births of the boys.
Well, ok, just a few juicy details and magical moments.....
In what has got to be the most uncomfortable moment imaginable - her head appears, reality hits that yes it is actually a baby coming (out of THERE !)- in that moment the world pauses, waiting for the last contraction to clear the shoulders and bring her gushing - in this, the of moment of birth, I feel the universe hold its breath. Even among the euphoria and the rush of all sorts of hormones, fluid, and the logistics of catching her before she went down the toilet I was crouched over !- even among the screams of pain and joy - who is making that noise? oh - actually, it is me! - in this moment I feel the universe pause, then I feel God breathe softly into the small body of this angel, and she lives. And lets out a ripping yell and there it is, we have a daughter.
Climbing onto the couch with her skin resting against mine, she is still. And I finally get my cup of sweet tea and toast, and deliver the placenta and bask in the bloody glory of it all.
The boys arrive home with grins from ear to ear, they rush in to inspect their baby sister.
Big Brother suggests we call her Baby Jesus. He's right in the Christmas spirit.
Little Brother kisses her gently. Later when she lets out a cry - the first noise he's heard from her - he looks at me with concern and suggests 'We should go to the hoff-dill (hospital)!'
20 mins after she is born, a pod of Orca whales are spotted in Wellington harbour. When Dan and the boys go into Eastbourne later that afternoon, to get a few feminine hygiene essentials from the supermarket, they follow the whales as they swim up and down the Bays. In places the 6 majestic creatures are only 5-10m from shore, even swimming under the wharf at Days Bay. In the way that nature knows, and responds, we know they have come to welcome our baby girl.
Born Friday morning, at 9.37am, after a long night of sporadic stop-start contractions, no sleep, a night and dawn of walking walking walking around the house, looking out at the dim misty morning, waving my bootie around, breathing my way through each contraction, as excited Dad and the midwives drink tea and eat toast.
I will refrain from giving you every juicy detail, needless to say, it was wonderful experience, and surprisingly different to the births of the boys.
Well, ok, just a few juicy details and magical moments.....
In what has got to be the most uncomfortable moment imaginable - her head appears, reality hits that yes it is actually a baby coming (out of THERE !)- in that moment the world pauses, waiting for the last contraction to clear the shoulders and bring her gushing - in this, the of moment of birth, I feel the universe hold its breath. Even among the euphoria and the rush of all sorts of hormones, fluid, and the logistics of catching her before she went down the toilet I was crouched over !- even among the screams of pain and joy - who is making that noise? oh - actually, it is me! - in this moment I feel the universe pause, then I feel God breathe softly into the small body of this angel, and she lives. And lets out a ripping yell and there it is, we have a daughter.
Climbing onto the couch with her skin resting against mine, she is still. And I finally get my cup of sweet tea and toast, and deliver the placenta and bask in the bloody glory of it all.
The boys arrive home with grins from ear to ear, they rush in to inspect their baby sister.
Big Brother suggests we call her Baby Jesus. He's right in the Christmas spirit.
Little Brother kisses her gently. Later when she lets out a cry - the first noise he's heard from her - he looks at me with concern and suggests 'We should go to the hoff-dill (hospital)!'
20 mins after she is born, a pod of Orca whales are spotted in Wellington harbour. When Dan and the boys go into Eastbourne later that afternoon, to get a few feminine hygiene essentials from the supermarket, they follow the whales as they swim up and down the Bays. In places the 6 majestic creatures are only 5-10m from shore, even swimming under the wharf at Days Bay. In the way that nature knows, and responds, we know they have come to welcome our baby girl.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Nanas Buns
This was my obsession this morning so the boys and I bashed out a batch before they headed off to Play Centre. 10 mins later, sultana buns all to myself, best eaten hot out of the oven, just like I used to make with Nana Hopkirk on our special mornings together before I started school. I'd catch the bus with the other kids but get dropped off at Nanas a mile down the road. We'd bake, feed the chooks, hang the washing, all the very grown up things. This is one of my earliest memories. I wonder, did it only happen once, or was it a regular occurence?
I wonder what the boys will remember of these days in their life. Big Brother is into role playing, and gets right into character. The last couple of days he has been a dog, and refuses to answer to his name. He has bounded around the house on all fours, barking. He's definitely a more obedient canine than child, much less argumentative. The other morning at the beach he spent some time throwing sticks into the sea then fetching them...in his mouth. He also has been a dragon, an otter, a rhino and his favourite one at Play Centre is a flamingo (he calls them maflingos). Each character is well researched, so I am fielding a stream of questions ...Do dogs chase cats and rabbits? What do otters eat? Would a brachiosaurus eat a crocodile? Do rhinos swim? We had tears the other day when he got into an argument with another 4 yr old over what noise a dragon makes when it breathes fire.
Little Brother is largely a willing sidekick in all these scenarios. He has two main points of conversation - Why? and NO! This morning as he climbed into bed with me he kissed the baby belly then said - Look! The baby's got a nose! I explained that its actually just my belly button/ turkey timer. The turkey should be cooked.
Meanwhile the baby has chosen not to be born today. I'm trying not to focus on it. When it happens it will be a memorable event for us all, I'm sure.
I wonder what the boys will remember of these days in their life. Big Brother is into role playing, and gets right into character. The last couple of days he has been a dog, and refuses to answer to his name. He has bounded around the house on all fours, barking. He's definitely a more obedient canine than child, much less argumentative. The other morning at the beach he spent some time throwing sticks into the sea then fetching them...in his mouth. He also has been a dragon, an otter, a rhino and his favourite one at Play Centre is a flamingo (he calls them maflingos). Each character is well researched, so I am fielding a stream of questions ...Do dogs chase cats and rabbits? What do otters eat? Would a brachiosaurus eat a crocodile? Do rhinos swim? We had tears the other day when he got into an argument with another 4 yr old over what noise a dragon makes when it breathes fire.
Little Brother is largely a willing sidekick in all these scenarios. He has two main points of conversation - Why? and NO! This morning as he climbed into bed with me he kissed the baby belly then said - Look! The baby's got a nose! I explained that its actually just my belly button/ turkey timer. The turkey should be cooked.
Meanwhile the baby has chosen not to be born today. I'm trying not to focus on it. When it happens it will be a memorable event for us all, I'm sure.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Due Date +4
Waiting for Christmas is so much easier than this waiting.
Probably because Christmas day doesnt get to decide when it will come. We dont spend all December wondering if today, when we wake up, Santa will have been round with his bulging sacks, and dispensed his goodies. We know a certain number of days till have to pass until the date specified, and then we will be rewarded.
This baby is my Christmas and its hard to accept that for all my illusory notions of control, he or she has the upper hand. And the upper foot upper under my ribcage. And another foot palpating my diaphragm like a jackhammer on a roadworks site.
I am torn between enjoying what I know from experience will be a relatively calm period before the new born storm, and just wanting to know, just wanting that first cuddle, just wanting (right now) the pain and the euphoria.
Ive been reading some Eckhart Tolle to help me stay 'In the Now'. Ive also decorated the toilets with pretty photos, rearranged the baby room, installed the newly built change table, eaten a fair few hand made chocolates (sorry aunty betty you just dropped off the present list), learned 3 songs on the ukelele, put up a swing in the trees for the boys, started my latest writing project, and cleaned out all the rubbish from that spot under the front car seats where all the discard detritus from the back seats ends up getting squished into.
So if you were waiting sweet baby for any of those things to be completed, then please feel free to use my body as a pre-stretched means of making your grand entrance. Anytime now would suit us...did you have any dates in mind?
Probably because Christmas day doesnt get to decide when it will come. We dont spend all December wondering if today, when we wake up, Santa will have been round with his bulging sacks, and dispensed his goodies. We know a certain number of days till have to pass until the date specified, and then we will be rewarded.
This baby is my Christmas and its hard to accept that for all my illusory notions of control, he or she has the upper hand. And the upper foot upper under my ribcage. And another foot palpating my diaphragm like a jackhammer on a roadworks site.
I am torn between enjoying what I know from experience will be a relatively calm period before the new born storm, and just wanting to know, just wanting that first cuddle, just wanting (right now) the pain and the euphoria.
Ive been reading some Eckhart Tolle to help me stay 'In the Now'. Ive also decorated the toilets with pretty photos, rearranged the baby room, installed the newly built change table, eaten a fair few hand made chocolates (sorry aunty betty you just dropped off the present list), learned 3 songs on the ukelele, put up a swing in the trees for the boys, started my latest writing project, and cleaned out all the rubbish from that spot under the front car seats where all the discard detritus from the back seats ends up getting squished into.
So if you were waiting sweet baby for any of those things to be completed, then please feel free to use my body as a pre-stretched means of making your grand entrance. Anytime now would suit us...did you have any dates in mind?
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
All quiet on the western front
D day arriveth.
Finally that day marked in the diary ALL those months ago, after my 12 week scan. How far away it seemed then! 4th december, baby due exclamation mark exclamation mark!
So Ive done what you do on due days....hovered around home, snacked regularly (very limited and rapidly shrinking window of eating for two at this stage so must take full advantage), cleaned the toilets (just incase the baby wont come until toilets are sparkling), and chocolate coated 150 truffles for xmas presents. Well, Mum did suggest getting on with the jobs that I'm not likely to have time for soon. Feeling rather pleased with myself, in a headily chocolato nauseous way. Chances of them lasting til xmas is probably proportional to the number of days I go overdue divided by the factor mentioned before - shrinking window of open ended eating.
We also got photos of me and the boys in profile, with balloons up their shirts.
So, baby, its your move.
Finally that day marked in the diary ALL those months ago, after my 12 week scan. How far away it seemed then! 4th december, baby due exclamation mark exclamation mark!
So Ive done what you do on due days....hovered around home, snacked regularly (very limited and rapidly shrinking window of eating for two at this stage so must take full advantage), cleaned the toilets (just incase the baby wont come until toilets are sparkling), and chocolate coated 150 truffles for xmas presents. Well, Mum did suggest getting on with the jobs that I'm not likely to have time for soon. Feeling rather pleased with myself, in a headily chocolato nauseous way. Chances of them lasting til xmas is probably proportional to the number of days I go overdue divided by the factor mentioned before - shrinking window of open ended eating.
We also got photos of me and the boys in profile, with balloons up their shirts.
So, baby, its your move.
2 days to baby due list
Reads something like this.
1. Go into labour
2. Have the baby
3. Get sore nipples
4. Enjoy the miracle of life
I have flicked the switch between happier to have the baby inside (less nappies, more sleep) to would rather it just came now, thanks. Its all to do with the sleep - I'm up and pottering around at night now, sore hips from lying in one place and microbladder are driving me out of bed so often I may as well be doing the baby things too. I want to see my knees again. I want my abdominals back, and to be able to stand up and put shoes on. But mostly I just want to tick off my list... go into labour...have baby.....get sore nipples and spend hours looking at the fruits of all my eyebrow production, and cartilage building, and just be in awe of the miracle of new life.
1. Go into labour
2. Have the baby
3. Get sore nipples
4. Enjoy the miracle of life
I have flicked the switch between happier to have the baby inside (less nappies, more sleep) to would rather it just came now, thanks. Its all to do with the sleep - I'm up and pottering around at night now, sore hips from lying in one place and microbladder are driving me out of bed so often I may as well be doing the baby things too. I want to see my knees again. I want my abdominals back, and to be able to stand up and put shoes on. But mostly I just want to tick off my list... go into labour...have baby.....get sore nipples and spend hours looking at the fruits of all my eyebrow production, and cartilage building, and just be in awe of the miracle of new life.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Dinner at Wagamamas
Just like the old days in London, tonight we celebrated at Wagamamas, perched out on the edge of the harbour at Queens Wharf. Same great food, edamame, katsu curry, raw juice. What has changed in the last 6 years since I last went to one of these great noodle bars is that we now have 2.8 children making swords out of chopsticks and dropping their noodles all over the floor, smearing the windows with fizzy sticky fingers. Also different was the fact we have eaten and are back home in PJs tucked up by 8.12 pm.
6 years ago, or longer. Time goes by. Am a bit nostalgic all round tonight as am on the eve of my 35th birthday. Might be time to invest in a skin care routine and some of that anti wrinkle night paste that's made out of sheep placentas. My eyesight has already gone (been wearing nana specs for 27 years now). I'm not even going to mention my bunions, except to the saleslady in the Kumfs shop. Its probably nearly time to decide what I'm going to do when I grow up.
Perhaps I'm being a little dramatic. Big Brother has been scaring me all day by running around the house screeching in a horrible high pitched voice 'WE'RE GONNA LIVE !' then in the low pitch 'WE"RE GONNA DIE', over and over again. (No idea where he picked that line up, except he's got it a bit wrong and says 'we're gonna lift' - 'we're gonna die'.)
Still, I suppose he is right. Cancel the placenta order, who cares how old I look as long as I'm laughing. No use getting all 'agey' about it now. Heres to the next 35 years of lift-ing.
6 years ago, or longer. Time goes by. Am a bit nostalgic all round tonight as am on the eve of my 35th birthday. Might be time to invest in a skin care routine and some of that anti wrinkle night paste that's made out of sheep placentas. My eyesight has already gone (been wearing nana specs for 27 years now). I'm not even going to mention my bunions, except to the saleslady in the Kumfs shop. Its probably nearly time to decide what I'm going to do when I grow up.
Perhaps I'm being a little dramatic. Big Brother has been scaring me all day by running around the house screeching in a horrible high pitched voice 'WE'RE GONNA LIVE !' then in the low pitch 'WE"RE GONNA DIE', over and over again. (No idea where he picked that line up, except he's got it a bit wrong and says 'we're gonna lift' - 'we're gonna die'.)
Still, I suppose he is right. Cancel the placenta order, who cares how old I look as long as I'm laughing. No use getting all 'agey' about it now. Heres to the next 35 years of lift-ing.
Monday, November 16, 2009
19 days til baby due list.
Funny how life slips into a routine and the days fly by. Especially when you go to bed at 7.30 pm and get up at 7am, and hopefully fit in a couple of hours quality rest in the afternoon. In my eighth month of pregnancy, this is my main aim - banking sleep.
And of course, completing the jobs on my lists. I hit my stride with the 33 days til baby list - 33 tasks for each myself and my delighted husband. We are now onto the 19 days til baby due list and things are surprisingly getting done faster than expected!
Baby clothes washed, bassinette organised, bag packed incase required for dash to hospital.
New bed built and shelves painted to go into the garden shed (perhaps not quite so critical in terms of a newborn but while I'm nagging about everything else I may as well go to town! Amazing how few people will argue with a woman with a belly like a basketball).
Theres been a few other less than critical jobs to complete - like rolling up the towels to go into the bathroom basket so they look like the ones in hotel toilets. Again dont mess with the pregnant crazy lady - my friends are coming back in a month to see how tidy they are then.
Positive birthing thoughts have been posted on the fridge. This is so everytime I reach for the milk for a cuppa I can think 'The pain has a positive outcome'. Or when diving in for the tomato sauce 'I will be able to surrender to the pain of giving birth'. 'My body is perfectly build for giving birth' - especially when fueled by those late night chocolate raids.
They call it a delicate time but there is also a certain ferocity in my preparations.
And of course, completing the jobs on my lists. I hit my stride with the 33 days til baby list - 33 tasks for each myself and my delighted husband. We are now onto the 19 days til baby due list and things are surprisingly getting done faster than expected!
Baby clothes washed, bassinette organised, bag packed incase required for dash to hospital.
New bed built and shelves painted to go into the garden shed (perhaps not quite so critical in terms of a newborn but while I'm nagging about everything else I may as well go to town! Amazing how few people will argue with a woman with a belly like a basketball).
Theres been a few other less than critical jobs to complete - like rolling up the towels to go into the bathroom basket so they look like the ones in hotel toilets. Again dont mess with the pregnant crazy lady - my friends are coming back in a month to see how tidy they are then.
Positive birthing thoughts have been posted on the fridge. This is so everytime I reach for the milk for a cuppa I can think 'The pain has a positive outcome'. Or when diving in for the tomato sauce 'I will be able to surrender to the pain of giving birth'. 'My body is perfectly build for giving birth' - especially when fueled by those late night chocolate raids.
They call it a delicate time but there is also a certain ferocity in my preparations.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Stay there a long long time
After seven months of moving, visiting, packing and unpacking cars, house sitting and camping, we are finally moving into our new (rented) home this weekend. And as Big Brother put it, we are going to stay there for a long long time.
Its going to be lovely - wee cottage by the sea with a big garden. Who would have imagined 12 months ago things could work out so perfectly. Hubbie is happily installed in permanent job (hooray), boys happily settled into play centre, and me, well, I am happily eating everything I can and getting fatter by the day. Just hitting 30 weeks pregnant there is no denying the inevitable now - I absolutely have to sit down to put on my socks.
There's a precious calm after the storm. Do come and visit us sometime for a quiet cuppa sitting on an unpacked box.
Its going to be lovely - wee cottage by the sea with a big garden. Who would have imagined 12 months ago things could work out so perfectly. Hubbie is happily installed in permanent job (hooray), boys happily settled into play centre, and me, well, I am happily eating everything I can and getting fatter by the day. Just hitting 30 weeks pregnant there is no denying the inevitable now - I absolutely have to sit down to put on my socks.
There's a precious calm after the storm. Do come and visit us sometime for a quiet cuppa sitting on an unpacked box.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Cutting the umbilical cord
Back in wellington now, for a superb few weeks of sunny days and still calm harbour (see, Ive transformed into one of those wellingtonians who rave about the weather!) Time is flying as I approach 6 months pregnancy, and I am unable to avoid the fact anymore.....soon we will have a baby!
But its the four year olds umbilical cord I am having trouble cutting this week. He is happily doing his fourth session for 4 year olds at our play centre, and has exhibited absolutely no signs of giving a stuff that mum leaves him there by himself! He has been confident and outgoing and is really coming into his own.
But then I got an email outlining a planned trip to the zoo for the 4 year olds. Now of course we could go, however I've committed to a playcentre course that day (the lengths I'll go to to pretened to have friends) and now i have to cut the umbilical cord and let my four year old baby actually go somewhere with someone else!
Ive only had a few nightmares and sleepless hours. I thought perhaps I could get Dad to pop along the road to the zoo from work and check up on things, by peering unsuspiciously through the bushes. Dad thought that might be going a bit far and it was probably best for the child to just let him go and get on with it. Typical common sense fathering response to a illogical pregnant mothers fear, but it was not appreciated.
Its not that I don't trust the fabulous crew of Mums he will be going with, because I absolutely do. It is more that I dont trust Big Brother to not run off, and climb over a fence into the tigers cage.
In preparation I've been positively reinforcing a few of the things that big 4 years olds do, like 'staying together', 'turning on your ears', and 'listening to the adults'. I am hoping that it is just me he ignores. It is possible that he runs off on me cause he's so sick of hanging out with me that he's desperate for someone else's company!
Well, I've confessed my paranoia to the trip leader (she has been very understanding), and has my mobile number to give me updates of how fabulously he is going. So tomorrow is the big day. Wish me luck. I am sure he'll have a great morning and I can spend the time thinking about how quickly they become independent, and planning my homeschooling routine.
But its the four year olds umbilical cord I am having trouble cutting this week. He is happily doing his fourth session for 4 year olds at our play centre, and has exhibited absolutely no signs of giving a stuff that mum leaves him there by himself! He has been confident and outgoing and is really coming into his own.
But then I got an email outlining a planned trip to the zoo for the 4 year olds. Now of course we could go, however I've committed to a playcentre course that day (the lengths I'll go to to pretened to have friends) and now i have to cut the umbilical cord and let my four year old baby actually go somewhere with someone else!
Ive only had a few nightmares and sleepless hours. I thought perhaps I could get Dad to pop along the road to the zoo from work and check up on things, by peering unsuspiciously through the bushes. Dad thought that might be going a bit far and it was probably best for the child to just let him go and get on with it. Typical common sense fathering response to a illogical pregnant mothers fear, but it was not appreciated.
Its not that I don't trust the fabulous crew of Mums he will be going with, because I absolutely do. It is more that I dont trust Big Brother to not run off, and climb over a fence into the tigers cage.
In preparation I've been positively reinforcing a few of the things that big 4 years olds do, like 'staying together', 'turning on your ears', and 'listening to the adults'. I am hoping that it is just me he ignores. It is possible that he runs off on me cause he's so sick of hanging out with me that he's desperate for someone else's company!
Well, I've confessed my paranoia to the trip leader (she has been very understanding), and has my mobile number to give me updates of how fabulously he is going. So tomorrow is the big day. Wish me luck. I am sure he'll have a great morning and I can spend the time thinking about how quickly they become independent, and planning my homeschooling routine.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Kea is the worthy King of the Mountains
If I could be any parrot in the world I would be a Kea.
I shun other average jungle parrots desperate for attention with their flashy plethora of multi coloured madness, crazy stripes of red, blue, green, pink, yellow in every direction screaming look at me!
No, the parrot that evolved to live in the snow line of New Zealands mountain landscape -it's beautiful and simple and perfectly adapted.
Its dark green feathers are interweaved with lighter green and darker green and more shades of green than a paint catalogue, expertly woven and perfectly blended, as if by a master painter. These birds are the Audis of the sky, the Kate Winslets of the icy walk of fame. Compared to these beauties a tropical parakeet is Paris Hilton driving in a psychadelic pink stretched Hummer.
Like the Kea, I would keep my wing-bling, my beautiful flash of orange like a burst of fire, concealed - only to be seen by those beneath me, or really watching me. Its like a flash of gold in the river, sparking the excitement of the gold rush for the desperate man panning on the banks.
The Kea here scavenging at the mountain cafe are total pests. They hang around stealing the food, pooing on the tables, walking with sharp claws on the latest model off road BMW's. But I admire them. They own the mountain. We only rent a small part day by day and get to feel, for a short time, free as the birds soaring high above this craggy range, lungs bursting with icy air, floating, free.
I shun other average jungle parrots desperate for attention with their flashy plethora of multi coloured madness, crazy stripes of red, blue, green, pink, yellow in every direction screaming look at me!
No, the parrot that evolved to live in the snow line of New Zealands mountain landscape -it's beautiful and simple and perfectly adapted.
Its dark green feathers are interweaved with lighter green and darker green and more shades of green than a paint catalogue, expertly woven and perfectly blended, as if by a master painter. These birds are the Audis of the sky, the Kate Winslets of the icy walk of fame. Compared to these beauties a tropical parakeet is Paris Hilton driving in a psychadelic pink stretched Hummer.
Like the Kea, I would keep my wing-bling, my beautiful flash of orange like a burst of fire, concealed - only to be seen by those beneath me, or really watching me. Its like a flash of gold in the river, sparking the excitement of the gold rush for the desperate man panning on the banks.
The Kea here scavenging at the mountain cafe are total pests. They hang around stealing the food, pooing on the tables, walking with sharp claws on the latest model off road BMW's. But I admire them. They own the mountain. We only rent a small part day by day and get to feel, for a short time, free as the birds soaring high above this craggy range, lungs bursting with icy air, floating, free.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Perfect day for the ski brothers
It's official, we all have the bug. Not the botty/tummy type bug but instead one that I am sure is going to give us countless days of pleasure and wholesome fresh air family fun for many years to come. I'm talking about the 'strap some wood to your feet and hurtle down a snowy mountain' bug.
We ventured en masse up the hill yesterday laden with 4 sets of gloves, goggles, hats, socks, boots, and one grandmother. A logistical nightmare, definitely, but absolutely worth it just for cute factor - Little Brother kitted out in his tiny tiny boots and skis only slightly longer than my feet.
Off we trekked to the learners platter, with a magic carpet and pommer tow. After one trip on the magic carpet and a slide down the slope holding Mums hand Big Brother pointed up to the 6 person chair lift that goes up the whole side of the mountain and declared 'I want to go up there now'. Gotta love that about kids - they don't let ability get in the way of their ambitions.
We persuaded him to have a few turns on the pommer with Dad - and he and Little brother (at the tender age of 27 months, remember!) both went up - and came down again - between Dads legs. They loved it, with basically no skill and no desire to master any, they were just there for the ride - totally trusting, I mean what could possibly go wrong? (So sad that they may learn one day how unforgiving gravity can be, and even end up like that quivering mess of worry at the bottom of the slope called Mum).
We only used bribery (international currency known as the lollipop) once to get them back up the slope, and once supercharged with colouring and sugar, three generations of Gentry's headed up the main chair. And came belting back down a few short minutes later. Big Brother is now hooked on skiing, and we'll be saving up for a few lessons next year, so someone else can gently teach him how to actually ski. Little Brother was a star, too, stomping away through the snow, sliding on his skis and leaning forward, without a grizzle all day. It felt incongruous to take his ski's off and lift him up onto the baby changing table to wipe his bottom. He fell asleep before we got back to the car.
Here's to great family holidays to come. And to breeding adrenalin junkies. And to contracting bugs like these.
We ventured en masse up the hill yesterday laden with 4 sets of gloves, goggles, hats, socks, boots, and one grandmother. A logistical nightmare, definitely, but absolutely worth it just for cute factor - Little Brother kitted out in his tiny tiny boots and skis only slightly longer than my feet.
Off we trekked to the learners platter, with a magic carpet and pommer tow. After one trip on the magic carpet and a slide down the slope holding Mums hand Big Brother pointed up to the 6 person chair lift that goes up the whole side of the mountain and declared 'I want to go up there now'. Gotta love that about kids - they don't let ability get in the way of their ambitions.
We persuaded him to have a few turns on the pommer with Dad - and he and Little brother (at the tender age of 27 months, remember!) both went up - and came down again - between Dads legs. They loved it, with basically no skill and no desire to master any, they were just there for the ride - totally trusting, I mean what could possibly go wrong? (So sad that they may learn one day how unforgiving gravity can be, and even end up like that quivering mess of worry at the bottom of the slope called Mum).
We only used bribery (international currency known as the lollipop) once to get them back up the slope, and once supercharged with colouring and sugar, three generations of Gentry's headed up the main chair. And came belting back down a few short minutes later. Big Brother is now hooked on skiing, and we'll be saving up for a few lessons next year, so someone else can gently teach him how to actually ski. Little Brother was a star, too, stomping away through the snow, sliding on his skis and leaning forward, without a grizzle all day. It felt incongruous to take his ski's off and lift him up onto the baby changing table to wipe his bottom. He fell asleep before we got back to the car.
Here's to great family holidays to come. And to breeding adrenalin junkies. And to contracting bugs like these.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
We're all going on a winter holiday...
Seems strangely appropriate for us crazy folks, that when the weather gets cold, we pack up and head...somewhere much colder. We get up early every day to drive up a winding treacherous snowy road, pay an exorbitant fee to strap boards to our feet and throw ourselves off a mountainside.
Theres absolutely nothing as great as a holiday in the snow. I am very fortunate to have married into a family who love to ski and so have been over the last few years have been discovering the delights of an annual ski holiday in wanaka.
Not that Ive had anytime up the mountain yet - mothering must be done where ever we are, (although am importing grandmothers today to provide childcare arrangements!) but I just love being here, the air is crisp and the scenery stunning, life is good.
Dad took Big Brother up the mountain on our first day, and he had his second time on skiis (not so keen but plenty of time to work on that). It might have been due to the fact I hadn't tried on his ski suit before we left home, and wouldn't you know he's grown about 4 inches since last year. The pants came to just below his knees and the crutch was somewhere up near his belly button. He must have felt cold and partially dissected even before we put him on skis and pushed him down the learners slope. To add insult to injury our friend started calling him Bruno. (He's the proud recipient of a new birthday ski suit you'll be pleased to know. Stand by for his 21st to see the pictures!)
I'm in two minds about how much strapping to a board I'll get in this year. The first mind is in dilemna regarding rather fresh memories of changing nappies for 6 weeks while in plaster with broken wrist. (Wasnt even very spectacular fall, just wimped out on icy track trying to show off to my husband.) The other mind is on my precious cargo. Although the dragon would love a bit of rough and tumble and fresh mountain air. I know this one will be as much of a dare devil as the other two - theres no chance of escaping those genes.
So we'll see how the days pan out - hopefully its snowing like a demon up there today, and we can have a family day up the hill on Treble Cone ski field, at least to sledge on the learners slope, build snowmen and wallow in powder, while looking at THE most beautiful view in the world. I don't think I'll be able to resist a gentle peruse down the Beginners slope, complete with body amour and wrist guards.
Theres absolutely nothing as great as a holiday in the snow. I am very fortunate to have married into a family who love to ski and so have been over the last few years have been discovering the delights of an annual ski holiday in wanaka.
Not that Ive had anytime up the mountain yet - mothering must be done where ever we are, (although am importing grandmothers today to provide childcare arrangements!) but I just love being here, the air is crisp and the scenery stunning, life is good.
Dad took Big Brother up the mountain on our first day, and he had his second time on skiis (not so keen but plenty of time to work on that). It might have been due to the fact I hadn't tried on his ski suit before we left home, and wouldn't you know he's grown about 4 inches since last year. The pants came to just below his knees and the crutch was somewhere up near his belly button. He must have felt cold and partially dissected even before we put him on skis and pushed him down the learners slope. To add insult to injury our friend started calling him Bruno. (He's the proud recipient of a new birthday ski suit you'll be pleased to know. Stand by for his 21st to see the pictures!)
I'm in two minds about how much strapping to a board I'll get in this year. The first mind is in dilemna regarding rather fresh memories of changing nappies for 6 weeks while in plaster with broken wrist. (Wasnt even very spectacular fall, just wimped out on icy track trying to show off to my husband.) The other mind is on my precious cargo. Although the dragon would love a bit of rough and tumble and fresh mountain air. I know this one will be as much of a dare devil as the other two - theres no chance of escaping those genes.
So we'll see how the days pan out - hopefully its snowing like a demon up there today, and we can have a family day up the hill on Treble Cone ski field, at least to sledge on the learners slope, build snowmen and wallow in powder, while looking at THE most beautiful view in the world. I don't think I'll be able to resist a gentle peruse down the Beginners slope, complete with body amour and wrist guards.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Girl or boy? - No, Dragon
Living in this new house seems to be having a strange effect on us.
I am obsessed with cooking. Well, actually with eating. You would be too if you had a functional kitchen complete with Friand trays (no intention of using them) and a pasta maker (on the list to-do). The woman that owns this kitchen is my hero. I am driven out of bed these days by hunger and it's been a case of banana muffins for breakfast, fresh bread for morning tea, soup for lunch, and slow cooker creation for dinner. With occasional scones in between.
Its no surprise then baby is growing well and hit 20 week mark with all limbs flying. It is a mover and shaker and would hardly lie still for the scan yesterday. I took the boys to see the 'movie of the baby' and they were fascinated. Big Brother proclaimed ' Look - its a dragon'. When he saw the red and yellow colours of blood pumping he added 'Its breathing fire!' The thought of having a dragon for a sibling has definitely raised his interest in the whole affair.
Little Brother still calls it Poop-poop. I think the sonographer is likely to remember us in a few months time when she hears in the news about a woman who gave birth to a dragon named Poop-poop.
Rather strangely also is the undeniable fact Big Brother has grown a tail. Its rather grey and mouse-like but he assures me it actually is a tiger's tail. He wears it day and night, and out around town. He gets a few strange looks from boring adults who have forgotten how liberating it is to have an imagination, but the kids think its cool. 'Look, he's got a tail' one boy called out. BB turned around and roared his best tiger roar. Respect.
Perhaps as the mother of a tiger I shouldn't be surprised when at the moment of birth the midwife exclaims ' well done - its a, its a ....dragon'.
Friday, July 10, 2009
High Tea at Kirks
We hit Cuba street armed with 2 preschoolers, 2 lunchboxes and a keen eye for a bargain. Unfortunately some of the second hand boutiques were more boutiques than secondhand, more designer than bargain (Soup on Blair St is NOT a bargain hunters paradise unless $300 dollars for a jacket is a bargain in your currency. They also made disparaging remarks about farmers and their sense of style. We were Affronted.)
We checked out Hunters and Collectors (possible to get a buggy into, which fulfilled one of our rating criteria) - beautiful but out of our $20 range, as well as Ziggurat, quirky/cool. Rated best find of the day though was the Recycled Boutique (209-211 Cuba St) with great range and pricing - LH got a pair of pants for $4.50! Only downer was not being able get the buggy into the place, although I could have asked them to open the side door. I was stuck outside pressing my nose against the window pane, salivating.
I tried to take the boys into Alistairs Music Shop next door to look at Ukeleles, but we were decidedly shamed out of there when Big Brother gently strummed a double base and the owners went into chorus of (not very appreciative) protest at him but ignored me. Feeling like a bad mother/leper we slunk out heads down. The thing that bugged me most was noone said nicely - Hi, we would appreciate it if you didnt let the children touch the instruments but can we help you with anything?
No Ukeleles for us, no sales for them now or probably in the future - how about having the childrens instruments by the door rather than behind the priceless ones. (Am I being Knarky? perhaps, but if you're going to sell childrens items at least don't treat them all like destructive monsters. BB played that instrument so beautifully I might have bought him one).
Besides that, it was a great day.
To top it of the next afternoon I treated the girls to a surprise outing - High Tea at Kirkcaldie and Stains. We tucked into the three tiered cake stand loaded with goodies wearing our $20 outfits feeling like a million dollars.
We checked out Hunters and Collectors (possible to get a buggy into, which fulfilled one of our rating criteria) - beautiful but out of our $20 range, as well as Ziggurat, quirky/cool. Rated best find of the day though was the Recycled Boutique (209-211 Cuba St) with great range and pricing - LH got a pair of pants for $4.50! Only downer was not being able get the buggy into the place, although I could have asked them to open the side door. I was stuck outside pressing my nose against the window pane, salivating.
I tried to take the boys into Alistairs Music Shop next door to look at Ukeleles, but we were decidedly shamed out of there when Big Brother gently strummed a double base and the owners went into chorus of (not very appreciative) protest at him but ignored me. Feeling like a bad mother/leper we slunk out heads down. The thing that bugged me most was noone said nicely - Hi, we would appreciate it if you didnt let the children touch the instruments but can we help you with anything?
No Ukeleles for us, no sales for them now or probably in the future - how about having the childrens instruments by the door rather than behind the priceless ones. (Am I being Knarky? perhaps, but if you're going to sell childrens items at least don't treat them all like destructive monsters. BB played that instrument so beautifully I might have bought him one).
Besides that, it was a great day.
To top it of the next afternoon I treated the girls to a surprise outing - High Tea at Kirkcaldie and Stains. We tucked into the three tiered cake stand loaded with goodies wearing our $20 outfits feeling like a million dollars.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
$20 outfit challenge
This holidays my nieces and I are hitting the opshops of wellytown. To make it a bit more interesting we have set ourselves a $20 outfit challenge. Once we have our style-EE new threads I am taking them out for a surprise outing....wearing our preloved treasures.
Thanks to a superb bit of research on one of the girls behalf, we have a flower covered manual outlining all the possible shops, addresses and sometimes notes such as 'if vivienne westwood came to wellington she would shop here'. I think we could sell the manual on trademe for a tidy profit...if we could bare to part with our new found knowledge. No, we are officially 'in the IN crowd', we plan to stay there by keeping our vintage scarf covered mouths firmly closed.
So far we have giggled our way through Rebound, in Petone. A treasure trove (I stocked up on preggy clothes blowing my budget immediately). I definetly won the ugly beautiful prize with a violently bright turquiose Homer-esque 'Moo-Moo' - think velour tent. Glorious. I promise I'll only wear it around the house...until I get invited to a bad taste party. Please someone have a bad taste party.
The girls found some great pieces to start off their outfits, and I bought a lovely classic black country road dress ($17), leaving me $3 for shoes,handbag, scarf etc. Cuba street here we come.
Thanks to a superb bit of research on one of the girls behalf, we have a flower covered manual outlining all the possible shops, addresses and sometimes notes such as 'if vivienne westwood came to wellington she would shop here'. I think we could sell the manual on trademe for a tidy profit...if we could bare to part with our new found knowledge. No, we are officially 'in the IN crowd', we plan to stay there by keeping our vintage scarf covered mouths firmly closed.
So far we have giggled our way through Rebound, in Petone. A treasure trove (I stocked up on preggy clothes blowing my budget immediately). I definetly won the ugly beautiful prize with a violently bright turquiose Homer-esque 'Moo-Moo' - think velour tent. Glorious. I promise I'll only wear it around the house...until I get invited to a bad taste party. Please someone have a bad taste party.
The girls found some great pieces to start off their outfits, and I bought a lovely classic black country road dress ($17), leaving me $3 for shoes,handbag, scarf etc. Cuba street here we come.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
My elaborate cover story.
It was like an afternoon at the day spa really.
Goodbye to the kiddies, and have fun with grandmother! A bobbing ferry ride, a peruse of Lambton Quay, window shopping (and stock up of Panadol). Then into the 'therapy session'. 2.5 hours of lounging with optional neck roll, choice of DVDs and a break half way for a hot sweet cuppa. After my session, I had 30 mins in the massage chair provided in the waiting room.
I almost didn't notice the 4 fingers, 3 drills, suction pipe and rubber tent that was in my mouth most the of the time!
When I walked out of the clinic you could have been mistaken for thinking I'd been having a touch of plastic fantastic surgery - lips plumped with collagen, mouth frozen into what I hope is intelligent wrinkle free face (until the injections wore off), and teeth whitened (from the dazzling new fillings). Some people will go to no end to keep looking youthful, and you know I'm turning well, older, this year.
P.S. If you do need a dentist though in Welly City, (or even to use one as an elaborate ruse) I highly recommend Angela McKeefry - General and Cosmetic Dentistry. Great job on a disaster zone of enamel. And did I mention she has a massage chair in her waiting room? Total genius.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Moving House Part 7
Am feeling a bit nervous today as am off to the dentist to pay for my oral hygiene sins. You can hide but you cant run forever from the big big drill of self responsibility. I am reaquainting myself to my dear friend flossy. And I have taken out a bit of future insurance in the form of a breeding programme -my husband has perfect teeth (has only had one filling in his life and that was after he met me, and is therefore my fault also). Heres hoping these boys have their fathers teeth genes. (And just quietly : mine for hairline?)
On the plus side the dental appointment has provided me with the perfect shirking excuse for the latest move - this time from in-laws to 300m down the road to a lovely house sitting job (complete with drawers for all clothes), where we will revell in the lap of luxury until such time as to when we rent ourselves a hovel.
All scheduled in for the same day - so I am officially delegating moving to hubby and the boys. I intend on retiring to my new bed this evening leaving him to pick up the boys, and install them, then move the stuff over the weekend. I am delegating the move to him as his penance for being born with perfect teeth. Plus, he has to pay all my lounging in the dental chair. I think on balance I'm getting quite a good deal.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
New Mastercard Ad
Big Brother putting Little Brother to bed every day for his afternoon sleep - priceless.
Big Brother exclaiming in the car - Look Mummy, a brick made of walls! - priceless.
Little Brother unable to say the s in soccer - instead he boots the ball across the room and exclaims with a satisfied grunt ...'FOCCER' - priceless.
The high point of glamour in motherhood - bringing home a wrapped dirty nappy from playcentre and then discovering your handbag stinks of s**t for a week.... Priceless??????
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Dreams
These things I used to day dream about:
..living in spain....eating sardines...learning a new language...tramping through bush...writing poetry...
These things I now day dream about:
1. Drawers to put my children's clothes in after 4 months of fishing them out of bags.
2. Three hours off mothering this friday -wow, what a great chance for some me-time. The sad fact is I'll be sitting in a dentist chair having 5 fillings put in. Even sadder is looking forward to the chance to nearly lie down for that long! And the prospect of a day in bed recovering, eating panadol, slurping mushy food and reading books.
The question is how did I get so stretched? I've become a smear of marmite spread over way to many pieces of toast. And the fault is my own, because I haven't asked for or prioritised the need to spend some time and energy dreaming about things I want. I'm the robot responding to the demands and needs of my nearest and dearest, where's that poetry writing sardine eating dreamer gone?
Must ponder on this while listening to the dulcet tones of the drill on friday....
Sunday, June 28, 2009
To the farm and back
Driving back into the big city after a week on The Farm with the boyos felt well,...quite good really. I must be settling in. It helped having a great night out planned - Dinner at Uncle Changs with Narelle and Julian followed by hilarious musical comedy starring the fabulously talented Pip Drinkwater. Nothing like time with old friends.
We had a blast at the farm, the boys are exhausted after playing with the cousins (believe me, there are 24 of them in the region so its hard. core. fun.) I realised how cooped up they have been over the last few weeks hanging out with old glum mum with a queasy tum. Note to self - must drag rapidly expanding arse of couch and do more high energy STUFF! Watch this space.
This pregnancy is starting to tick along nicely, just hit 19 weeks, or 18, or 20. Funny how it all goes mushy in my brain. I'm having a bit of movement that may or may not be more exciting than gas, although would like to have more (more baby kicks, that is, not wind. My cup runneth over in that department!). I can't remember what the boys were like - activity wise - at this stage, but I know later on they were all go go go - always up for a uter-race around the uterus. Lovely hubby suggested perhaps this one is a girl who might be more into sitting around reading a book at the library. I'll take it as a positive, although I know he actually means i.e. more like its mother than those two rockets who like to make pretend parachutes and launch off the furniture.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wanted : NBF : New Bestest Friend :)
I love Wednesdays.
Playcentre in the morning = 3 solid hours of well,..play. For the boys its pure action and for Mum, its pure sanity. I have felt the most normal over the last 6 weeks when we've been at play centre. Funny thing, must be the gentle smell of playdough, the chatter of excited kids, just being Mum with other mums and enjoying the kids - all of them interacting to learn, learning to not bash each other, and exploring the world. Its full on, I admit, but somehow refreshing and recharging being in a room full of bunnies that only have two speeds - enthusiastic and asleep.
It's also really nice to meet some new friends (I hope). I am trying not to appear too capital D for desperate for new mates. Its first year at high school all over again, shying testing the waters by chatting to different people, thinking 'are you my NBF?'....'will you be up for a glass of wine at 4pm on a random tuesday where we drink and feed the kids sausages then one of us stumbles home pushing a buggy?'. Those sorts of friends are well worth getting over my teen angst shyness for. And yes, they take time (don't want to appear like a win-o).
In the meantime, the boys wake up every morning asking for playcentre. Next term we'll be upping our days to 2X week for LB and 4X for BB. If that works out Big Brother wont need to go to Kindy as well, he can do the advanced session for 4 yr olds until he goes to school. (Excuse me while I howl at the thought of loosing my first born to the bowels of structured education) Its a great option for me cause this way I'll get to meet, and establish NBFs with more possible 4pm winos, rather than at kindergarten where its usually more drop off and pick up the kids.
Hoorah for Play Centre. I like actually playing with play dough too - I dont just sniff it - its so wormy and squishy and therapeutic.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Serene and calm mother to be
Yeah, right, could be a Tui billboard.
I have had visions leading up to this pregnancy of myself as a serene orb floating through the crazy world humming peacefully, glowing with goodwill and loveliness, exuding an aura of 'dont mind me I'm making eyebrows' to random passerbys.
I thought that IF I was so blessed as to have another chance at No.3, that I'd be so constantly grateful that I'd be in one of those near death hovering scenarios, untouched by the woes of the passing world, and just in tune with my miracle of internal person making, subtley influencing the world around me with all my infectious joy.
But, no, sorry, hasn't happened.
I've turned into one of those Mums that (I confess) prior to having my own children, I judged as they dragged screaming brats through the Mall barking orders such as 'if you don't stop, I'll lock you in the car'. I used to think (very ashamed to confess) of such mothers 'if they so obviously don't like their kids, why do they bother having them?'
The harsh truth is that being a mother is such sodding hard work, as wearying as the rock under the constant drip of water. A rock that would freely admit to LOVE water, still gets worn away. And that's how I've felt a lot this pregnancy.
I know that the circumstances of my present position have been dripping on the rock also, and I know that it's my beloved children doing what they do (being kids let loose in a mall) that tends to be the drip that cracks the rock into two splintered shards, the last straw, the final act of a two year old that sends me barking, mad, sad, tearful and ultimately ashamed of myself as a mother.
I am trying to say that we all need to give ourselves, other mothers we see out and about (surviving despite their constant dripping), and our children a break. We are all doing great. We all love our children. We do a million wonderful things a day to show our kids how much we love them.
I am so grateful to have another chance at our cherry on top. Just don't read this rock by its slippery and worn surfaces right now. It winter and its raining alot.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Great Town Adventture - Part Two
The train pulled out, but still the adventure continued - what a day.
(Next immediate challenge required negotiating a double inline buggy into the ladies at the aging train station - I have decided forget weights, clicky brakes or foot pedals, ease of folding and trendiness, the ultimate test of any buggy is (drumroll please) getting in/out of the loos out in the public domain. They usually have a double door arrangement where the doors open opposite ways. And a crazy shaped space in between. Here is where buggy companies should be test their products. Top marks to the Vibe today, got in without any swearing, lifting, or door frame carving, and got out even easier with help from a lovely lady whom held open one of the doors. May she be blessed with a long life of bladder function.)
So it was time for lunch and armed with a picnic we hunted for a park. From just outside the station I spotted a lovely tree adorned park a short walk away - complete with its own beehive! The workers bees must have been busy today, as we didnt see any but Little Brother did see a big big big man (statue) and Big Brother practised for a career in protesting by getting himself stuck in a pile of railings. Little brother spotted a seagull and a few pigeons, and suddenly yelled out 'Turkey?'. Checking my watch I assured him the turkeys were still probably in morning session, but he was likely to see some anytime soon when they adjourned for lunch!!!!
After a 10 minute dash into Kirks (bad news, couldnt get buggy through just one of the doors - had to wrestle open two and perform acrobatics with my chin to propel buggy while holding doors open by doing splits - a very good look) and a wander along the waterfront, a play at Frank Kitts park and an overdue dose of sunshine I have to admit you can't beat Wellington on a good day.
Refueling at Te Papa Cafe with a Hot CHoc (still voted best in the city) and a few jellies (genius marketing stroke) was followed by a quick check to see neither the Giant Squid or the Giant Moa had grown, moved, or procreated since we last saw them. And after a shake in the shakey house I dragged the boys (literally screaming) out of Te Papa and over to our friend Stanleys house.
Big day, so big, infact, I confess I rang Stanley's mum from the bottom of the incredibly steep hill and she came down and picked us up! The greatest adventurers of all need to realise their limits (Sir Ed didnt try to do Everest twice in a day, did he), and when they have jolly well earned that cuppa and a lie down.
(Next immediate challenge required negotiating a double inline buggy into the ladies at the aging train station - I have decided forget weights, clicky brakes or foot pedals, ease of folding and trendiness, the ultimate test of any buggy is (drumroll please) getting in/out of the loos out in the public domain. They usually have a double door arrangement where the doors open opposite ways. And a crazy shaped space in between. Here is where buggy companies should be test their products. Top marks to the Vibe today, got in without any swearing, lifting, or door frame carving, and got out even easier with help from a lovely lady whom held open one of the doors. May she be blessed with a long life of bladder function.)
So it was time for lunch and armed with a picnic we hunted for a park. From just outside the station I spotted a lovely tree adorned park a short walk away - complete with its own beehive! The workers bees must have been busy today, as we didnt see any but Little Brother did see a big big big man (statue) and Big Brother practised for a career in protesting by getting himself stuck in a pile of railings. Little brother spotted a seagull and a few pigeons, and suddenly yelled out 'Turkey?'. Checking my watch I assured him the turkeys were still probably in morning session, but he was likely to see some anytime soon when they adjourned for lunch!!!!
After a 10 minute dash into Kirks (bad news, couldnt get buggy through just one of the doors - had to wrestle open two and perform acrobatics with my chin to propel buggy while holding doors open by doing splits - a very good look) and a wander along the waterfront, a play at Frank Kitts park and an overdue dose of sunshine I have to admit you can't beat Wellington on a good day.
Refueling at Te Papa Cafe with a Hot CHoc (still voted best in the city) and a few jellies (genius marketing stroke) was followed by a quick check to see neither the Giant Squid or the Giant Moa had grown, moved, or procreated since we last saw them. And after a shake in the shakey house I dragged the boys (literally screaming) out of Te Papa and over to our friend Stanleys house.
Big day, so big, infact, I confess I rang Stanley's mum from the bottom of the incredibly steep hill and she came down and picked us up! The greatest adventurers of all need to realise their limits (Sir Ed didnt try to do Everest twice in a day, did he), and when they have jolly well earned that cuppa and a lie down.
Great Train Adventure Part 1
Last Friday dawned sunny and bright and perfect for an adventure on a train! However all adventurers tend to have challenges and our started by missing the hourly bus from the top of the hill to the train station. We were only 5 minutes early - cripes they are punctual in this city.
We sat in the curb for a bit then decided on plan b - to walk down to the park on the corner and catch the following hours bus. This all went great until 10 mins before said bus is due to arrive Big Brother utters the five words all mothers dread to here while out and about...'I want to do Poos'.
Up the hill/mountain side we trudged all the way past two bus stops back to home.
Here is where I nearly threw in the towel. I felt like a cuppa and a lie down. I just couldn't bear the thought of the fallout from two toddlers and a long day of 1000 questions 'bus?' 'bus now?' 'want BUUUUUSSSSSSS'. 'train?'
So we wiped, flushed, and reboarded the buggy and raced the now well won path back to bus stop number 1. And it came ! On we hopped, while I wrestled the buggy into folded submission two little boys confidently marched up the bus, found an empty seat and got themselves all seated. What a couple of townies these two have turned into.
OH, but the train, that was eyes-like-saucers-exciting. The huffing and puffing of the doors closing, the screeching of the wheels as the breaks released, clatter-clatter and that lovely rocking sensation of the carriages ambling pigeon toed along the tracks. And then there were 7 tunnels and the dropping pitch of the clanging as we hurtled through the crossings. I quite enjoyed it myself. I even had a few nostalgic moments thinking about my commuting days in London on the tube (all evils pale with time, it seems).
Pulling into Wellington station the boys eyes popped out - theres another train over there! and over there! and over there!... With help from the other friendly commuters we lumped our trusty phil and teds off the train and climbed aboard. The train filled up and departed again, watched by two boys sated with tank engine joy. That was a really useful train trip.
We sat in the curb for a bit then decided on plan b - to walk down to the park on the corner and catch the following hours bus. This all went great until 10 mins before said bus is due to arrive Big Brother utters the five words all mothers dread to here while out and about...'I want to do Poos'.
Up the hill/mountain side we trudged all the way past two bus stops back to home.
Here is where I nearly threw in the towel. I felt like a cuppa and a lie down. I just couldn't bear the thought of the fallout from two toddlers and a long day of 1000 questions 'bus?' 'bus now?' 'want BUUUUUSSSSSSS'. 'train?'
So we wiped, flushed, and reboarded the buggy and raced the now well won path back to bus stop number 1. And it came ! On we hopped, while I wrestled the buggy into folded submission two little boys confidently marched up the bus, found an empty seat and got themselves all seated. What a couple of townies these two have turned into.
OH, but the train, that was eyes-like-saucers-exciting. The huffing and puffing of the doors closing, the screeching of the wheels as the breaks released, clatter-clatter and that lovely rocking sensation of the carriages ambling pigeon toed along the tracks. And then there were 7 tunnels and the dropping pitch of the clanging as we hurtled through the crossings. I quite enjoyed it myself. I even had a few nostalgic moments thinking about my commuting days in London on the tube (all evils pale with time, it seems).
Pulling into Wellington station the boys eyes popped out - theres another train over there! and over there! and over there!... With help from the other friendly commuters we lumped our trusty phil and teds off the train and climbed aboard. The train filled up and departed again, watched by two boys sated with tank engine joy. That was a really useful train trip.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Cheeky, cheekier, cheekiest?
After many weeks waiting and hoping, biding my time feeling happily pukey, I had a magical 12 week scan last week. No3/Take 2 is on its way and making its presence felt with a podgy out tummy, a voracious appetite, a superhero sense of smell and a nighttime penchant for toilet visits.
I was talking to the boys the other day, discussing the 'baby in the tummy'. Mostly as a defence strategy, to warn them against body slamming and other surprise wrestling attacks. I asked them whether they think it will be a girl or a boy.
Big Brother thinks a boy - and suggested the name Henry (cute). Little Brother thinks a girl and put forward to delightful name of Poop-Poop (not so cute). Big Brother thought if its a girl we should call it Alli (not too bad)- but as in short for Alligator (?).
At the scan I waited excitedly just incase I got the 'So do you have any twins in the family?' question, but no. (Its a strange fantasy I have every time I have a scan, and I realise it is not totally sane.)
The baby (singular) was very good during the scan showing all its bits, except when just as the sonographer took one of the measurements - it stuck out its tongue! This one may turn out the be the cheekiest of them all.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Museum of City and Sea
Last Friday we branched out and headed down to the waterfront for an exploration of the Wellington Museum of City and Sea.
First mission - find a carpark. With horizontal blasts of polar cap hitting us sideways everytime we stepped outside the door this week, I opted for the easy option and parked in the carpark under the museum. That was my big greenie newbie city dweller mistake. Carpark buildings are NOT created equal in this town and the pricing is hugely variable. But more on that later...
We unfolded our new loan Phil and Teds in line double Buggy (flash!) with a hip-city-mother flourish of coordination. The boys alighted - funnily they fight to sit in the behind chair - were clipped in and hatted up. Up in windyville we ditched the idea of a small wander up and down the waterfront, and headed to find a small boy compatible lunch spot.
Again Im going to wander off track, but there is a difference between child friendly, and small boy compatible. Most cafes are very welcoming, but the trick is to find a place where the mother can relax and not worry if the little tykes a) roar around screaming, b)lick the salt shaker then drop it on the floor or c) drop their pants in the middle of the room then run for the toilet.
The picks of places are usually large open areas with reasonably tough looking fittings. Also called Pubs. We went to Chicagos and I was impressed they had a kids menu, and some driving machines. Seems same appeals for boys no matter the age. Great hit with the lads, they were fascinated by the adults having their friday wet lunches.
Then at last to the museum. It is free ! Top marks and very friendly. Hit all the spots for the boys - lifts, interact displays, a lion, a train, and even a captains cabin to jump around in. Ropes to tie, ships wheel to steer, and a cool 3D mythology story teller.
We returned to the car, happy with our new hangout, and then we went to pay the carparking bill. Two hours for $17. Gulp. Tried to pay and while machine faffed around, the time clicked over into two and half hours for $22. Ouch. So much for a cheap outing. Will be back to the museum but next time we coming by bus.
First mission - find a carpark. With horizontal blasts of polar cap hitting us sideways everytime we stepped outside the door this week, I opted for the easy option and parked in the carpark under the museum. That was my big greenie newbie city dweller mistake. Carpark buildings are NOT created equal in this town and the pricing is hugely variable. But more on that later...
We unfolded our new loan Phil and Teds in line double Buggy (flash!) with a hip-city-mother flourish of coordination. The boys alighted - funnily they fight to sit in the behind chair - were clipped in and hatted up. Up in windyville we ditched the idea of a small wander up and down the waterfront, and headed to find a small boy compatible lunch spot.
Again Im going to wander off track, but there is a difference between child friendly, and small boy compatible. Most cafes are very welcoming, but the trick is to find a place where the mother can relax and not worry if the little tykes a) roar around screaming, b)lick the salt shaker then drop it on the floor or c) drop their pants in the middle of the room then run for the toilet.
The picks of places are usually large open areas with reasonably tough looking fittings. Also called Pubs. We went to Chicagos and I was impressed they had a kids menu, and some driving machines. Seems same appeals for boys no matter the age. Great hit with the lads, they were fascinated by the adults having their friday wet lunches.
Then at last to the museum. It is free ! Top marks and very friendly. Hit all the spots for the boys - lifts, interact displays, a lion, a train, and even a captains cabin to jump around in. Ropes to tie, ships wheel to steer, and a cool 3D mythology story teller.
We returned to the car, happy with our new hangout, and then we went to pay the carparking bill. Two hours for $17. Gulp. Tried to pay and while machine faffed around, the time clicked over into two and half hours for $22. Ouch. So much for a cheap outing. Will be back to the museum but next time we coming by bus.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Giant moa, Giant Squid
We have embraced BE BAPA (as little brother calls it) as a second home. We've been six times in total now and each time have made a bee line for the giant moa (Big brothers favourites) and the Giant Squid (little brothers fav's - although he calls them 'Jant-da Moa' and 'Jant-da Did'.)
We have been artistically cultured at the Monet Exhibition (after cueing for 1.5 hours the excitement was extreme!) and our wee paleantologists have uncovered the dinosaur fossil in the sandpit.
What an amazing place, with fantastic discovery zones full of interactive games and models, toys and comfy couches. My IQ, and vocabulary has certainly been extended!
So far I have voted the Te Papa cafe as my personal pick for best hot-choc in new city of residence. And also takes boys cafe experience to new levels as they sell little plastic cups full of jelly. Amazing. Out of our two hangout places discovered so far - Be Bapa is rocking. (Sorry Johnsonville Mall, you come close second.)
Wellington Museum of City and Sea - hope you're ready to knock our highly-pulled-up-museum socks off. You're next on the agenda, if we can go past the lure of the giant moa and giant squid.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Museum Junkies
Wednesday was a very rainy day, and one of the challenges of moving to a big city with small boys is finding places to burn energy. Especially on really wet miserable days.
I had been thinking our first trip to Te Papa, the national museum would be a SPECIAL occasion type trip, saved up and then relived for months. However I changed my mind after three hours of building huts, reading stories and racing cars along the sunporch. Hide and seek only burns so much boy energy, especially as these boys tend to find one hiding place (under the covers of Mum and Dads bed) and go back there everytime!
So off we went to Te Papa. Our mission was to find a dinosaur. Although we found plenty of bones and a giant squid, trekked around the place for hours, and even had lunch of jelly at the cafe, the absolute highlight would have to have been.... the hand driers in the toilets.
What oohs and ahhs they produced as we all took turns putting our hands under 'ON!' and taking them away 'OFF!'. We peered up them and banged them abit to wee what that did. Amazing piece of technology, and the wonderful preservation of our countries national treasures was you know, quite fun too.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Adventures in the Big City
Its hard to believe the last blog I wrote was on the 7th March.
Now its the 6th May. And quite a few things have changed in our lives, so to keep it simple, was going to write a list...but, you know there are some times in your life when its better not to relive tricky times. Perhaps its best to concentrate on all the great stuff that is happening NOW.
My lovely husband has a great job and is enjoying it. We are housesitting for 6 weeks in the 'burbs of the capital city. The boys are lovely and amazingly resilient. Happiness for them is having their parents around everyday. They are embracing city life ( while Mum is still finding it a bit challenging at times). Yesterday we had the wonderful adventure of catching the bus into local shops. It takes 5 mins to drive, and 15 mins on the bus, so it was time well spent. Even waiting for the bus was an adventure - they learnt about bus stops by special signs, buying a ticket, pressing the bell to stop the bus. Mind boggling stuff.
For the first few days Big Brother was puzzled by the red lights. 'What are we doing, Mummy?' he asked, EVERY time we stopped. 'Waiting for the lights'. ' Ahh'.
Now he says -' I want to stop at the Red Lights!' when we get a clear run.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Talka talka talka
Little brother has discovered his vocal chords. Specifically that they can make lots of different words that he can use to communicate. He hasnt learned to put them to together yet, but they come out firing out, determined single words sentences. All ending with an -a.
He might say:
'Mumma. Willa. A-saur. Turn. (Shaking his head).'
Transl. :
'Mum, Will is not letting me have a turn with the dinosaur.'
Or:
'Mumma. Juica. Wada (Shaking his head).'
'Mum, I want a juice, NOT a water.
During the summer holidays he renamed his visiting cousin hordes, christening them with the-a. Hannah, Ella, Fletcha, Charl-a, Georgia and Julia came off alright, but Wog (Robbie) and Apgar (Alex) didn't do so well. They just might stick.
He is so enjoying being able to communicate, and he even cracked his first joke the other day. His big brother has been watching a bit of The Muppet Show and had been singing that classic skit -'Mana mana, Do do do do do'. Little brother and I were sitting at the breakfast table and he pointed at the melon I was eating. 'Its melon' I told him. 'Mana' he said, 'Mana.' Then he got a little curious thinking expression on his face and started singing 'Do do do do'.
It may have been a 'you had to be there' joke, and not great over the ethernet, but we both cracked up.
He also loves to sing in the car. Another milestone of language development was reached coming into Piopio last weekend when after 150 kms of E-I-E-I-E-I-E-I, he finally hit the -O.
He might say:
'Mumma. Willa. A-saur. Turn. (Shaking his head).'
Transl. :
'Mum, Will is not letting me have a turn with the dinosaur.'
Or:
'Mumma. Juica. Wada (Shaking his head).'
'Mum, I want a juice, NOT a water.
During the summer holidays he renamed his visiting cousin hordes, christening them with the-a. Hannah, Ella, Fletcha, Charl-a, Georgia and Julia came off alright, but Wog (Robbie) and Apgar (Alex) didn't do so well. They just might stick.
He is so enjoying being able to communicate, and he even cracked his first joke the other day. His big brother has been watching a bit of The Muppet Show and had been singing that classic skit -'Mana mana, Do do do do do'. Little brother and I were sitting at the breakfast table and he pointed at the melon I was eating. 'Its melon' I told him. 'Mana' he said, 'Mana.' Then he got a little curious thinking expression on his face and started singing 'Do do do do'.
It may have been a 'you had to be there' joke, and not great over the ethernet, but we both cracked up.
He also loves to sing in the car. Another milestone of language development was reached coming into Piopio last weekend when after 150 kms of E-I-E-I-E-I-E-I, he finally hit the -O.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Amongst the prickles
Two weeks after leaving our home of four years, I find we are on an emotional see-saw.
At one extreme, and mostly, we are missing home, finding it unbelievable that we go to the park and know NO ONE . Unbelievable that our old life and playcenter is carrying on WITHOUT US back in the bay of beauty. Feeling a little guilty I am still for all intents and purposes 'on holiday' and get to live in this other beautiful place.
And at the other extreme I am learning how to fly fish. Living at the river mouth where a world class trout fishing river feeds into a world class trout fishing lake, it only seems appropriate. Added to that my sons can spend hours throwing stones into that river. If we need to survive on trout and blackberries we could.
And then there are the blackberries. As I was wandering down the pumice littered beach this evening for my pre dinner dip in the luke warm lake, with my gin in hand, I just couldn't resist a few black beauties. Seems we have found ourselves in the prickles frequently lately. We have been scratched. We have had tummy aches from eating too many red ones. We've picked a few half ripe ones and been sorely disappointed with the after taste.
But we still can't resist risking finding the sweetest one possible, we can't resist risking reaching so far out of our comfort zone that sometimes we will fall headfirst into the prickles.
Wiping the juice from off our faces we can't blame it on the plants. With the most luscious blackberry come the prickliest prick.
At one extreme, and mostly, we are missing home, finding it unbelievable that we go to the park and know NO ONE . Unbelievable that our old life and playcenter is carrying on WITHOUT US back in the bay of beauty. Feeling a little guilty I am still for all intents and purposes 'on holiday' and get to live in this other beautiful place.
And at the other extreme I am learning how to fly fish. Living at the river mouth where a world class trout fishing river feeds into a world class trout fishing lake, it only seems appropriate. Added to that my sons can spend hours throwing stones into that river. If we need to survive on trout and blackberries we could.
And then there are the blackberries. As I was wandering down the pumice littered beach this evening for my pre dinner dip in the luke warm lake, with my gin in hand, I just couldn't resist a few black beauties. Seems we have found ourselves in the prickles frequently lately. We have been scratched. We have had tummy aches from eating too many red ones. We've picked a few half ripe ones and been sorely disappointed with the after taste.
But we still can't resist risking finding the sweetest one possible, we can't resist risking reaching so far out of our comfort zone that sometimes we will fall headfirst into the prickles.
Wiping the juice from off our faces we can't blame it on the plants. With the most luscious blackberry come the prickliest prick.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Happy new Blog
Hi there, long time no blog.....let me tell you a little story...
Once upon a time everything was going along peachily, and we all lived in a fairytale town with a great beach and free movies. We had lovely friends and ordered wine by the case from scenic cellars. We had two delicious children and life seemed perfect. Except of course, that nothing is ever permanent and even princesses and princes cop their share of well...challenges and changes.
So, what happened to the heroes of this fairytale? So far, they left town 3 days ago in search of other opportunities, taking their two handsome princes, a truck full of belongings and a collection of life long friends. Presently they are residing beside a beautiful lake, carving boats out of pumice and eating a lot of blackberries. And they still have two delicious children and live really close to scenic cellars now so still manage a few too many good bottles of vino. They are looking for new jobs and a new house. They are reinventing themselves and I hope you continue to follow their journey... they will try and share it with you once more.
(Not anywhere near) The End
Once upon a time everything was going along peachily, and we all lived in a fairytale town with a great beach and free movies. We had lovely friends and ordered wine by the case from scenic cellars. We had two delicious children and life seemed perfect. Except of course, that nothing is ever permanent and even princesses and princes cop their share of well...challenges and changes.
So, what happened to the heroes of this fairytale? So far, they left town 3 days ago in search of other opportunities, taking their two handsome princes, a truck full of belongings and a collection of life long friends. Presently they are residing beside a beautiful lake, carving boats out of pumice and eating a lot of blackberries. And they still have two delicious children and live really close to scenic cellars now so still manage a few too many good bottles of vino. They are looking for new jobs and a new house. They are reinventing themselves and I hope you continue to follow their journey... they will try and share it with you once more.
(Not anywhere near) The End
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